weaving into orbit
by sakura aesthetic
Summary: The first time she sees him, Lucy is sitting cross-legged on the cushiony bedrock of vanilla moon, a blanket of stars draped over her lap, sewing needle at hand. It is then that they introduce themselves: she learns to call him Natsu, the boy who wields gravity. She asks of him but one simple request: to call her Lucy, the constellation weaver.


**.**

* * *

 **Weaving Into Orbit**

* * *

 _stitch by stitch i tear apart._

 _if brokenness is a form of art,_

 _i must be a poster child prodigy._

 _thread by thread i come apart._

 _if brokenness is a work of art,_

 _surely this must be my masterpiece._

— _sleeping at last —_

* * *

The first time she sees him, Lucy is sitting cross-legged on the cushiony bedrock of vanilla moon, a blanket of stars draped over her lap, sewing needle at hand. Peeling away from the rippling quilt splayed across her knees, she offers him a genuine smile, hickory irises flickering over the stranger. The newcomer glances over her handiwork, his gaze trained on the knots, the loops, the lengths of tangled but organized strands of stars; he eventually returns her greeting with a hesitant but affectionate grin, then waves. The friendly notion sends two asteroids clashing into one another, broken rock dispersing into plumes of dust and sediment.

It is then that they introduce themselves: she learns to call him Natsu, the boy who wields gravity. She asks of him but one simple request: to call her Lucy, the constellation weaver.

—

Spending her life—an eternity—in the midst of trailblazing meteor showers, foreboding novas, and the serene Milky Way, Lucy remains perched atop the ridge of the moon's tallest crater. To keep warm, she tucks her knees beneath the thick, woven duvet, careful not to split loose ends or unravel precious seams that took days to knit closed. She does, however, wrestle with her newest addition, twisting and aligning and rotating _N_ _oel_ into the complex constellation. After some time, _Noel_ settles and resides beside _Celine_ , the two young stars affixed to one another, the clusters barely touching but somehow cannot, _will not_ , be separated.

Lucy nods at her craftsmanship, clasping the edge of the blanket and pulls it tight. The fabric rises like a tide, entirely too similar to the waves on Earth, and flutters in the vortex wherein gravity does not exist, wherein everything is weightless.

With a final exhale, she relinquishes her newly-sewn constellation to the woes of the cosmos, the stars holding steady, wavering but never faltering, until they settle in a place far beyond her reach.

"Another one?" A voice behind her stammers; she pivots to find Natsu stargazing, his unruly, pink hair brighter than any nebula she has ever seen. "Luce, how many constellations have you sewn?"

Considering his question, a smile tugs at the corner of her lips, and with a whisper, she breathes, "Too many to count, but not enough to fill the empty space."

For what else can she say? Space, similar to time itself, is infinite.

—

Natsu is a black hole.

This thought occurs to her whilst sipping her cup of steaming, hot tea. _Peppermint_. She drinks in the refreshing smell of bitter leaves and licks at the residue of earl grey atop her lip. Mug in hand, she settles behind her telescope and watches the boy propel himself across the sky.

"Natsu," Lucy shouts across the vast expanse. "You're making a mess of things."

He flashes his signature grin and flicks his wrist; Venus spins on its axis twice as fast as before.

"Nah, I'm just having some fun."

"You'll end up breaking something if you keep this up."

He shrugs and surrenders, the rotation easing back to normal.

"If you're worried that I'm going to screw with your constellations, don't worry about it."

She breathes a sigh of relief, her hand clutching her pounding heart. The moment, however, is short-lived as Natsu floats closer to her, his body hovering over both Lucy and her most recent project— _Esmerelda_. His eyes are lit with searing embers, onyx bearing into brown.

"I don't break things, Luce."

His voice is threatening. Lucy knows she should nod and avoid him as much as possible but she only leans in closer, breathing him in.

"I know, Natsu. You clean up after the universe. You manipulate change to create something new. You control things."

 _Yes_ , she decides, _Natsu is a black hole_.

For everything nearby—whether it's a speck of dust, a space rock, a planet—gravitates to him whether they choose to or not.

 _Yes—he is the epitome of organized chaos_.

—

There is always a delivery on Sunday mornings.

Just as the sun comes into focus over the moon's horizon, Lucy stands from her usual perch and ambles across the face of the crater. She scuffs her feet along the way, occasionally stubbing her toe on sharp rocks but doesn't mind.

She loves Sundays. She loves receiving mail.

"Morning!" Natsu chirps happily, a sack hauled over his shoulder.

"Good morning, Natsu," she laughs. "Anything new for me today?"

"But of course," he replies, setting the bag down on the moon's surface. A plume of dust rises in the air and quickly disperses.

She bites her lip in excitement; the anticipation is killing her. Natsu hunches over and begins untying the bag, his fingers unwinding the tight knots before the sack spills open. Lucy already knows what to expect; however, she cannot help but release a surprised giggle.

Inside, a large pile of stardust awaits Lucy's sewing hands.

"You brought so much, Natsu."

"Eh, well, I scavenged around a little longer than usual and came across a cluster near Orion's belt. I figured you'd want a little more than usual, anyway. You always do."

She huffs but can't help the grin that spreads rapidly across her face.

"Why do you collect stardust for me? Really, I appreciate it, but it's not your job," she murmurs.

"Technically, Luce… it is my job," he argues playfully, then points at the bag of stardust. "These little bastards intercept a lot of orbits and are _so_ annoying to get rid of. If anything, by you taking them, you're making my job easier."

The constellation weaver smiles fondly at his words, knowing they carry more weight than either of them care to admit.

"Thank you, Natsu."

He beams at her. "You're welcome, Lucy."

—

In all her years, Lucy has never witnessed a supernova.

So when the moon is eclipsed one morning, the seamstress wakes to a distant rumble, her perch shaking in the turbulence. She doesn't know what's going on, or why, but as her eyes fall upon the colorful explosion millions of miles away, the catastrophic eruption shifting everything in its path, Lucy can only scream. For she recognizes the vibrant pinks, the wide circumference, the sound of the star moving—it's _Hailey_. And just like that, her masterpiece is torn at the seams, Hailey's brothers and sisters sent across the galaxy, separate, mourning, _lost_. She doesn't know how long it'll take to find _Jonathan_ , to find _Elsabeth_ , to find _Arnold_. To find _Jason_ , _Timothy_ , _Carson_ , _Emma_ , and _Alice_.

Lucy has never felt so useless; a family has been split apart and she can only sit by and watch.

She starts to cry of course, but the moment her knuckles crack against her perch, she feels his arms around her, hugging her close.

"Shh, Lucy… it's going to be okay. They're going to be okay."

"Natsu… Hailey… she's—"

"Gone. I know, Luce. I know. But do you wanna hear a secret?"

She nods, her tears still flowing free. He reaches to wipe them away and then presents her with a handful of stardust. _Hailey's stardust._

"It was her time, Lucy. All stars have a time when they need to leave," he whispers whilst carding his fingers through her blonde hair. He then tips her chin so she can meet his eyes. "That doesn't mean, however, that her family's time has come yet."

She cocks her head to the side incredulously. "What do you mean?"

"Lucy, you have the power to give them a family again," he urges her, bringing the loose flecks of stardust closer, "you are the constellation weaver—you can sew them back together."

The seamstress glances between Natsu and _Hailey_ , processing his words. This so-called power is hers, and hers alone. So she does all she can do and collects the stardust from Natsu's offering palm, then gathers her weaving materials and begins to strew them together. Natsu watches the entire time, his face alive with something resembling hope; it warms Lucy's heart.

And before the night is out, in her hands, is _Michelle_. The star shines as her sister before her, if not brighter and it takes all of Lucy's strength to keep from tearing up. She is beautiful. She _exists_.

Turning around, she is surprised to see the crinkling of Natsu's chin, as if to maintain his composure, but doesn't mention it. Instead, she grabs his hand, her skilled fingers thumbing over his knuckles in a silent plea.

"Don't worry, Lucy—I'll find them for ya."

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 **A/N—** Yo here's another story for you guys. I know... not much of a plot... it's more of an imagery piece... a drabble in some way, shape, or form. I hope you guys like it.


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